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The app is almost identical to the JKUFacultyApp that’s still on my phone from when I worked at the dining hall. Only, after a couple of minutes to load, when this app opens, it somehow seems to know it’s me. My name is in the profile settings.
I have no idea how, but at this point, I don’t even care.
I’m distracted by the first notification that pops up.
Your clothes are in the bathroom. Be ready for 8.
Before I went upstairs earlier, I went into every room in the basement. Aside from the gym, there was a utility room with a washer and dryer, a furnace room which is the source of the thrumming that I can hear through the walls, and a bathroom.
The bathroom was more of a shower room off the gym, but since this room also had its door removed, I figure the guys would be heading upstairs after a workout.
Pursing my lips, I reread the message, and then set the phone down. I have a little over an hour before I’m needed, and I’d rather eat before I go find out what’s in store for me. Syn implied I’d be able to eat but given how up until last week he had me eating only small portions of rice, I wasn’t ready to trust that my meals wouldn’t be restricted again.
Seamus was a good cook.
Maybe he didn’t have some world-renowned training, but the duck was delicious, and honestly, not so different from what was served in the dining hall. Besides, when I worked in the kitchens and asked who the Michelin Starred chefs were, I was told it was never the chef awarded the stars, but the restaurant, and the meals served at JKU were made with the best ingredients, but these dishes were far less complex than what was required for that grading.
Even though the chefs here knew that, it seemed to be something the university administration chose to ignore.
I finished my meal then grabbed some painkillers from my bag before heading to the bathroom. The ones I had taken earlier were wearing off, and I was starting to feel sore again.
The bathroom was about the size of the room I’d been given to sleep in. In here, the marble flooring also covered the walls. Taking up half of the room was a walk-in shower with three different showerheads. I eyed them warily, wondering if dye blocks had been hidden in them too.
Along with a toilet, sink, and a large mirror with a stone-looking bench in front of it, there was a towel warmer hanging from the wall, with black towels already on them. I’d sniffed them earlier, and they smelled clean, but I’ll remain suspicious of everything while I’m in this house.
Since investigating last time, the room’s gained a couple of new additions. On the sink, there’s a tray of cosmetics and hair products. Hanging next to the mirror is a full-length garment bag.
This university requires students to wear a uniform. I’m sure it’s probably one of the only colleges in the country that does, yet that didn’t stop the administration from enforcing that decision. The website said something about preparing us for the real world where we’d be expected to dress appropriately for the setting.
That seems somewhat of a farce to me considering the only one on the whole campus who’s been wearing the uniform exactly how it was tailored is me. Everyone else had personal tailors tweaking and altering each item to their personal tastes.
Even Penny, who has a thing for pink, had her uniform altered to include hot pink details. It’s cute and fits with her personality completely.
Given that it’s a Sunday, I’m sure the garment bag doesn’t hold my uniform—and god knows what Syn would have done to it.
Which is why I’m somewhat hesitant opening the bag.
When serving Syn, Royal and Gemini, the initiates wore a maid or butler outfit. The guys looked like any maître D in a high-end establishment, whereas the girls wore clothing that was more like the Halloween costume version of a maid. Fitted, low cut, and with short skirts.
To be fair, they looked good in them, and while I might not have chosen to wear it to meet my future husband’s parents, if you took the maid element out of it, the clothes weren’t that much different than something these girls would wear to clubs or parties.
But if it is the Halloween version, I’m preparing myself for mine to be the porn version.
Syn keeps asking how far I’d be prepared to go, hinting that what he has in store for me will push me past my limit.
Like murder.
That’s the one thing I’m ninety-nine percent certain is a bluff.
But anything else?
I know he wants to hurt me. I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to hurt Cole, or both of us, but so far, his M.O. is less hands on and more psychological. He’s had plenty of opportunity until now to really cause some damage and have me in a hospital—or worse—but something’s been holding him back.
Hopefully not the lack of an NDA…
While I wouldn’t say Denali House feels like the safest of places I could be, I do feel like I’ll be able to wake up every morning.
Time is ticking away, and for now, my game plan is to be quiet and compliant.
